The Good Doctors
by ImaRocketDog
Summary: I'd always wondered why Dr. McCoy never had an Assistant CMO, poor Bones deserves a little more help sometimes. TOS, if the Enterprise had an ACMO and Bones had a snarky lady doctor as a coworker. McCoy/OFC with hints of Spirk, rating will go up to M.
1. An Enterprising Opportunity

**A/N:** My first attempt at a Star Trek fic of any kind, so please be kind with the reviews! Basically, most of the chaps. Will be a an episode of the original series, told mostly from the 1st person POV of my oc, Assistant CMO Dr. Nicole Zoellner (trust me, she's no Mary Sue, or at least I'm trying my goddamn best not to make her one), sometimes in 3rd person from McCoy's POV, and perhaps with the occasional AU twist or a dash of Spirky goodness for all you Kirk/Spock fans out there! Starts out kinda slow, since she's not on the Enterprise just yet and the 5 yr. voyage hasn't started, but hopefully I can get to that by the next chapter. Also, I don't plan to re-write every single episode, and I will add in completely new storylines for additional chapters, such as the first couple, since I don't think the series actually starts until at least 2266, when the voyage starts in mid-2265. One final note (I promise, then it's storytime!): I will be writing the episode chaps. In order of stardate/production date (which typically correlate) instead of TV release date. That being said, enjoy the show!

**Disclaimer!:** Star Trek is property of Paramount, and unfortunately none of it's characters or storylines belong to me. Dr. Zoellner is, however, my own creation, as are her family members, and the starships USS Atlas and the USS Harcourt.

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**Chapter One: An Enterprising Opportunity**

Had the list been in alphabetical order, my name would've certainly been dead last. It certainly would've been on the roll call during the graduation ceremony from Starfleet Academy nearly three years previous, had it not been for the academic honors that had managed to earn me a seat in the front row. Thinking back, it was hard to help smirking a little; despite the – as some would call it – "unfortunate" last name of Zoellner, no graduation ceremony had seen me as the last one to receive my diploma, the same as it had been for my twin brother, Mark, and our father as well.

Of course I knew that honors were not nearly enough to get by on in life, but as I sat there in the spacious reception area of Starfleet medical, I realized – again, as I often did – that they really did help. A lot. As it was, the list of people scheduled to meet with the Surgeon General of Starfleet was not alphabetical, (which was a big relief, the list was immense) but rather in order of priority. And I was at the very top of the list. Not that I should of known that, of course… but the PADD just happened to be carelessly tossed aside on the receptionists desk so the list was in full view… and it's not my fault that I happen to have a special talent for, erm, noticing things… but it wasn't as if I had done any harm in looking at it, since I had known since before even arriving back home the scheduled time for my appointment.

I had only arrived back from my six-month assignment on the USS_ Harcourt_ barely two weeks before, but a recent decline in the number of medical personnel left little time for R&R. Since returning, things had been busy and business pretty much as usual for me, but a lot had changed in two weeks. I had gone from being the Junior Lieutenant I had been at the beginning of the mission to a full Lieutenant, and from a relatively unknown presence to most in the Starfleet medical community to something of an equal and maybe even a hero... but all for reasons I would rather not have been. After that last harrowing mission, I would have rather have taken two full weeks of rest and relaxation over a bump up in rank and a shiny metal to pin on my dress uniform. I joked around and pretented to be perfectly fine in front of my brother, but I knew he'd rather just let him sypathize with me and get it over with. But no, not Dr. Nicole Zoellner, I had to keep busy keep my mind off things, get on wiht my life and sign on for yet another mission before I let my shiny new promotion go to waste.

And so there I sat, waiting to be called into his office and trying to look perfectly calm and unflustered as I tugged nervously at the hem of my uniform dress. I looked up suddenly as I heard the receptionist converse briefly over the speaker with Dr. Eggleton and then clear her throat.

"Nicole Zoellner?" she said, standing up, "Dr. Eggleton will see you now."

Smoothing out my skirt for a final time, I stood and followed her inside the office door to greet the Surgeon General. He smiled slightly, rising to shake my hand as the door slid shut again, indicating for me to take a seat in front of his desk.

"Dr. Zoellner, I would like to congradulate you on your promotion, and also to offer you my deepest condolances for the loss of Dr. Edbardiar. He was a great surgeon, and will truly be missed by us all." he said, with a faint hint of sincerity. I felt a lump caught in my throat. Dr. Edbardiar had been a gruff, callous, and often insensitive man, but he had been a mentor to me since I first arrive at the Academy six years before, fresh out of medical school. True, he had often treated me harshly as a cadet, but I looked up to him almost as much as I did my own father; I liked to imagine that he treated me like dirt simply because he thought I had potential and was only pushing me to work harder. I could only assume I was correct when he asked me to be part of his medical team on the Harcourt's latest science mission. He had softened a bit by then, and had even told me that I was the best neurosurgeon he had ever worked with. Of course, that was as he lay dying in a pool of his own blood, forcing me to leave him and two dozen others behind on the planet to rach the shuttle, get back to the ship, and assume the title of Acting Chief Medical Officer after a mission gone horribly awry... Dr. Egglton knew of all my proported "heroism," of course, but said nothing of it. I was glad he didn't, considering there was nothing in that story worth bragging about or that I was even particuarly proud of, and for him to expect me to be would've made me sick.

Instead, he got right down to business. "Let's not waste time beating around the bush here," he said . "I want to be frank with you. You're a brilliant surgeon, your track record and quick rise in rank are both impressive and commendable, despite the... unfortunate circumstances under which they were recently acquired. And unfortunately, there's quite a lack of doctors with your skill in Starfleet right now. But despite all this, I'm still facing a dilemma right now concerning how your skills would best be utilized. the Teaching Hospital, of course, is always in need of doctors, but transferring you there could mean any of several things. I have no doubt of your skill, but many of the open positions there are in the educational and research departments, and I highly doubt that you would be comfortable in an educational position so early in your Starfleet and medical careers, correct?"

Oh, certainly not; teaching on any way, shape, or form was not for me. "You'd be correct, sir, but of course if there are other possibilities, I'd gladly accept whatever I'm needed most in right now."

"Well, that's just it. Possibilities for placement are always available in Starfleet Medical, but most research currently underway is either graduate research or Ph.D. studies. And I am to understand that you yourself earned your Ph.D. in xenobiology while on your first mission as an ensign?"

"Yes sir," I said. He leaned back in his chair and seemed to consider something for a moment, examining something on his monitor which I presumed was my extended resume. I took the opportunity to think things over myself. To be honest, the thought of working in the Starfleet Medical Center didn't greatly appeal to me, but I knew for a fact that many promising careers had been launched in the research labs there. Plus, it would get me out of playing teacher to a group of nervous interns who were at most ten years younger than me in the center's tiny version of a glorified hospital. But in reality, neither choice was for me; working with interns was unlikely because of my lack of experience in an educational role, but to be placed in that role would mean little freedom in my work and the possibility of either being transferred onto a starship on a whim or never going into space again. On the other hand, research opportunities were numerous and new ones were constantly springing up, but most of the current opportunities didn't fit my position. Most importantly, though, research conflicted with both my desire to actively practice medicine and also my ultimate goal of becoming a starship CMO, preferably sooner rather than later.

Dr. Eggleton's loud sigh brought my attention back to him. He was still examining my resume on the monitor. "Yes, yes, very impressive… a degree in space psychology as well, very good. Shame you were just a few months too late to join the relief mission on Capella IV, it certainly would've made for a good experience for you, a chance to meet some other brilliant doctors, too; CMO's, professors, research team leaders… hhmmm, well, there does appear to be something you might be interested in; there is currently vaccine research underway for choriomeningitis at the Medical Center, it's a position I initially offered to Leonard McCoy, but he may be reconsidering. You are familiar with Dr. McCoy, I assume?"

I shook my head. "I've never met him, but I am familiar with some of his work," I hesitated. "I know I probably shouldn't ask, but why'd he turn the research down?'

"Well, he hasn't officially decided yet, but Captain James Kirk of the _Enterprise_ offered him his old position as Chief Medical Officer back for it's five-year mission. It's a shame to see such a brilliant doctor like him turn down this opportunity, but to accept a posting on the USS _Enterprise _is actually a remarkable opportunity itself, and with such an elite and promising mission ahead, a ship like that does need all the capable surgeons it can get…"

I held back a sigh; "elite" and "promising" missions were what I hoped my Starfleet career to be made of, not hours on end spent in a lab because I was convinced I was needed there. But what Dr. Eggleton had just said was true, too, there was a shortage of doctors aboard starships as well. True, I had just returned from one mission-and an extremely difficult and tragic one at that- so expecting to be offered an assignment on another ship so soon was madness. But if space was where I was needed, then why shouldn't I be there? It was beginning to occur to me that perhaps I was just a little too space-crazy and looking for a way out of being stuck on planet Earth for longer than necessary. I tired not to think that way, but all too often it seemed to be at least partially true. But part of me couldn't help but wonder at the same time if Dr. Eggleton wasn't trying to get me inquire about the _Enterprise _on purpose. After all, it was the opportunity of a lifetime, and one that would ultimately show my dedication to a career in Starfleet. A plan was forming in my mind.

He considered me for a moment before speaking again. "Well, I can't say that I didn't briefly think about setting up a meeting concerning your placement there, Dr. Zoellner, but I never thought much of it, considering everything you've just been through. Of course, there are several ships in need of medical personnel, but few would require your level of skill and I don't think you would find the promotion you are looking for right away, but potentially in the near future, perhaps. I do think that the _Harcourt_ will be looking for a new Assistant CMO once it's been re-outfitted for its next mission, but that won't be for half a year yet…"

"Sir, to be honest, I was hoping for a placement on the _Enterprise_. I don't want to compete with Dr. McCoy for CMO, but you haven't mentioned if there was an opening for an Assistant CMO on _that_ ship as of yet." I all but held my breath as the Surgeon General sat back in his chair, deliberating. After all, it was pretty ambitious - maybe even pretentious - for me to be asking for a such a prestige assignment, and on a five-year mission on the _Enterprise,_ no less. With missions of such importance and extreme length, too, this wasn't typically the way it worked; _they_ asked _you_ to accept a posting, not the other way around. And besides, I had few "connections," except, of course, for my newly captain-ed brother, who also happened to have been close Academy buddies with Captain Kirk of the _Enterprise_, and my former captain and CMO of the _Harcourt_, who I was sure would put in a good word for me for whatever my next posting was. But if getting on this mission was what I really wanted, I didn't want my brother's help.

Dr. Eggleton gave me a long, stern look, then cleared his throat. "the Enterprise does, of course, still need a good deal of medical personnel, and I've no doubt that with a ship that size, its CMO would benefit from having an Assistant CMO, which you appear more than qualified to be, Dr. Zoellner. But since I still haven't recieved confirmation of Dr. McCoy's posting as CMO yet, I can't exactly say who any possbile cadidates for ACMO might be.

"Tell you what. As you probably already know, Captain Carmichael is having a, um... retirement party this coming week. Dr. McCoy and Captain Kirk should both be there; I'm assuming, of course, you were invited?"

I nodded. I knew the whole situation. Captain Carmichael of the _Atlas _had been a successful and well-respected officer in Starfleet, as brave as they come, but only a single tragic accident on an away mission to bring him down. In a coma for nearly a month, my brother Mark, his first officer, has been forced to assume command as acting captain. The captain eventually did come out of his coma, but the noxious gas he'd encountered on the planet's surface had attacked his nerves, leaving the entire right side of his body paralyzed and Mark in command for the remainder of the mission. Carmichael had, of course, been offered desk jobs and teaching possitions at the Academy, but he had turned them all down, choosing insead to retire from Starfleet and end his career on his own terms. Following the mission, Mark had officially been made a captain, and was a sort of "guest of honor" at the party, and so I had been invited by him. Now that I knew two certain people would be there, however, I felt that I actually now had a real reason to go.

"So, yes, they'll both be there," Dr. Eggleton continued, "and I'm sure it can be arranged for you to meet them sometime while you're there. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to hear what you have to say."

"Thank you very much, doctor," I rose to leave, and held out my had to him.

"A dress uniform appropriate occassion, of course," he said, graspign my hand briefly. I nodded, smiled, and said my polite goodbye as I made my way out into the reception area again. Maybe moving on with my career really was all I needed to do to move on with my life; after all, it had worked for me before. I smiled ruefully, thinking that that would be exactly what crabby old Dr. Edbardiar would want me to do, and I'd be damned if I disappointed him. The Harcourt was beginning to seem farther and farther away the more I thought about the Enterprise. A new ship would be a fresh start. I sighed, feeling an odd sense of relief mixed with triumph. The meeting had not been anything I had expected, but who was to say that I nothing would come of it? I was a doctor, not a miracle worker, but I knew it wouldn't take a miracle to get on the Enterprise, just the right skills, the right approach, and some good old-fashioned Zoellner charm. Oh yeah, I was as good as ACMO already.

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**A/N:** Well, that's the revised version of chapter one for ya, hope it wasn't too angsty-sounding. I didn't do anything to chap. 2 (as of right now, anyway), so you won't find any mention of the Harcourt mission in there, but it's in chap. 3, which is why I wanted to go back and fix this one. ~Leanne the Rocket Dog


	2. Doctors Know Best

**A/N (4/23/12): **Whew, finally done with the revised version of Chapter Two! Yay! Apart from a few little things that were really bugging me, the only major change was the re-working if the party scene to involve more discussion of Nicole's last mission and also to include the fact that she and Kirk have met previously. Still not perfectly happy with how the changes turned out, but I was feeling a bit lazy and didn't want to have to scrap most of what I had already written. Anyway, count on seeing a revised version of Chapter 3 soon (I only plan of fixing some horrible spelling/grammar mistakes in that, though, serves me write for typing half of it in the fanfiction doc manager), but I absolutely wanted to be sure I got this chapter re-uploaded before (FINALLY) posting Chapter 4. Sooooo, enjoy! And please leave some kind reviews/suggestions/questions!

**Chapter 2: Doctors Know Best**

For a party that I had originally not wanted to go to, the two weeks leading up to it seemed to go by extremely slowly. But at last I found myself back in my apartment after a long day of being on-call in the medical center primping in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom. My roommate, Monica, was away for the weekend visiting her sister in Texas for the weekend, so I had the whole apartment to myself.

A slight feeling of nervous impatience came over me as I fidgeted in my dress uniform and tugged futilely at its tight collar. Regular uniforms might have been a bit sexist in their form-fitting, mini-skirted design (although "sexist" wasn't really my own preferred term for them, I actually happened to quite like the current uniforms, thank you very much), but at least they were reasonably comfortable to wear. Despite its more modest longer skirt, the dress I now wore was every bit just as form-fitting as a regular uniform, but the fact that the powder-blue satin fabric had much less stretch and give to it made it seem nearly twice as tight; it pinched and pulled so much around the hips and shoulders that I was afraid that one wrong move might lead to an embarrassing ripped seam. All in all, though, the design was attractive enough; the shiny blue material was complimented by gold trim at the hem and around the high, asymmetrical collar, going down off the side to outline the closing flap on my right shoulder. On the left side over my heart were the Starfleet rank pins, and black pantyhose paired with highly-polished black high heels completed the look, rather than my everyday black boots.

A hidden zipper ran up the front of the dress covered by the flap secured by a concealed button near my shoulder, which I was currently attempting to fasten. I looked up at the mirror as I closed the top one, and time seemed to slow down for a moment; I felt a sense of déjà vu at seeing myself just as I was in the mirror. Against my will, I was caught up in the memory, and my face appeared to change just slightly in the mirror; a few years younger, my hair and makeup slightly different. I was also not alone.

My ex-fiancé, Brian, stood behind me, my back pressing into his chest, the ghost of the weight and warmth of his hands on my waist, his breath hot and heavy on my neck as he placed an imaginary kiss there. I shivered, caught between the sheer heat of passion in that moment in the past and the barren, stark reality of where I stood in the present. On their own volition, my hands detached themselves from my neck and began to slowly travel down the length of my body, passing over where his invisible hands once were. My eyes closed, my breathing heavier now and my heart pounding in my chest.

_"We don't have to go to the party," _I heard him say in a throaty voice._ "I know you don't want to. We could always just stay here tonight..."_

There was a familiar soft giggle and a slight moan of pleasure as I heard my memory-self reply. _"Brian, stop it, you know I have to go..."_

My hands continued on down my thighs, stopping when my fingertips met the barrier between the skirt of my dress and almost-bare skin. For a moment my fingers curled themselves talon-like around the hem of my skirt and gripped it tightly, but before I could control them, my palms opened up again and began to slowly creep back up my thighs, this time the fabric moving along with them.

My eyes jerked open again and I inhaled sharply, remembering where and when I was. I blinked rapidly, and was suddenly very aware of where my hands were; I snatched them out from under my dress and smoothed the skirt back into place. The image and sensation of my ex-fiancé was gone from my mind, the strange and sudden surge of desire fading as quickly as the memory had. I shook my head and went back to primping in the mirror, trying to ignore the shame I felt at what I had almost done, as well as supreme gratitude that my roommate had not been at home after all; I can't possibly fathom how embarrassing it would've been had Monica walked in on me very nearly pleasuring myself to the memory of a man who I considered to be dead to me. Even worse, not appearing to be pleasuring myself to any particular image, but simply doing it standing in from of the mirror. The fact that this random thought of _Him _had occurred in the first place disturbed me somewhat, but I tried not to concern myself with it; true, it had all happened four years ago, I no longer loved him at all, and had completely accepted the fact that it was over, but despite that fact that I considered myself to be "Over it" random memories of _Him_ still crept up on me unexpectedly. Of course, this wasn't the first time that these random thoughts had been blatantly erotic, but ones like those were really rare, usually they just caught me off-guard and put me in a grouchy mood for the rest of the day.

I sighed, then squared my shoulders and narrowed my eyes at myself in the mirror, determined not to let it bother me. I gave my reflection a quick once-over, pleased with what I saw; a reasonably attractive woman with perfectly coifed dark hair in science blue, tall, slender, and professional. The alarm on my watch beeped twice and I nodded at myself once before leaving.

The party turned out to be—for the most part—just as boring as I had initially expected, but I drank, laughed, and chatted along with everyone else, and generally did my best to avoid the depressing sight of Captain Carmichael in his chair. I made my rounds around the large reception hall, keeping a look-out for both my brother Mark and my friend, Dr. Paul Benke, who had promised to introduce me to Dr. McCoy. It was starting to really annoy me that I hadn't seen my brother yet; after all, he _was_ the new captain of the _Atlas_, so it was almost as much his party as it was Carmichael's. Across the room, I saw a friend wave to me, and then start making weird hand gestures as if trying to tell me to turn around. Just then, I felt a light tap on my shoulder, and was greeted by a familiar laugh as I turned to face my brother.

"Mark!" I exclaimed, slapping his arm playfully before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "You sneaky bastard, I've been hunting you down all night! Makes it even worse that I haven't seen you hardly at all since I got back, almost makes me think you've been avoiding me…"

He rolled his eyes in classic Zoellner form. "Oh please, you know me better than that, Nicole. With my track record? You know I try to avoid hospital settings as often as possible. I'm pretty sure there's a running bet going on between all the nurses in Starfleet to see what injury I'll turn up with next."

I snorted into the glass raised to my lips and almost choked on my drink. It was all too true; my brother had earned a bit of a reputation as being "most likely to be wounded on a mission or just by brushing his teeth." It was never anything serious or life-threatening, of course, just the fact as far as easily reparable injuries go, Mark was on the unluckier end of the spectrum. Nevertheless he was still a more than competent officer, but I highly doubted that his promotion to captain would do much to improve his chances of not ending up in sickbay following his next mission.

Another laughing voice joined our own, and I turned to see Natalie, Mark's chief science officer—and newly appointed first officer—and currently very pregnant wife. As he put his arm around her, Mark suddenly seemed slightly uncomfortable, and gave me that same brief, apologetic, pitying glance he always did whenever Natalie and I were near each other during her pregnancy. I suppressed an exasperated sigh. Sometimes I doubted he was even aware he was doing it, but I wished he wouldn't all the same; honestly, it really wasn't that big of a deal anymore… not that unnecessary pitying looks from one of the only people who knew about _It_ still didn't bother me. Within a matter of seconds, though, my twin was back to his smiling self again.

"So, what are you two laughing about so much over here?" she asked. Her tone was casual as could be, but I wondered if she had noticed the uncomfortable moment between Mark and me; she could be unnervingly perceptive at times.

Mark was quick to roll his eyes again. "Well, apparently my sister's under the impression I've been avoiding her for the past two weeks…"

"Which is true, isn't it, Natalie?"

"… but it's not like I'm the one who totally blew my brother and his wife off for dinner last week when he invited me over, oh wait that was _you_. Seriously, where were you last week, Nicole? I told you Jim Kirk was gonna be there, you probably haven't even spoken to him since our wedding, and that was _three years ago_. Thought you might like a chance to impress your future captain, you know…"

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. "Oh, come on, I already apologized for that, you know I was busy filling in for—wait, _what?" _Realization struck me in what can only be described as a "record-scratch" moment. He had invited THE Captain Kirk over for dinner without telling me? "What'd you say about Jim Kirk? You invited him over for dinner, on the same night I was supposed to be there, and you didn't. Tell. Me."

"Sorry about that, we didn't know if either one of you would be able to come or not," Mark said, a bit sheepishly, "but it's been awhile since I've seen him and you know I've told him a good bit about you and your work."

"What exactly about my work, Mark?" This was, after all, my potential future captain we were talking about. I didn't need him to take my absence from dinner as free license to start passing judgment on me. True, he and I had both been in my brother's wedding, but that had been quite a while back, and the likelihood that he'd remember anything about me besides my area of work was highly unlikely. Now that I was about to be re-introduced to him in the hopes of leaving a favorable impression, I wished I'd kept in touch with him after all.

"Oh, relax, everything's fine!" Natalie offered, "Jim's a great guy and a great captain, I'm sure he remembers only good things about you. I'd be surprised if he hasn't talked to that Dr. McCoy already about having you aboard!"

I frowned. "Yeah, but it's really 'that Dr. McCoy' that I'm more worried about. You ever hear much about him?" Although I had probably passed him in the halls of the teaching hospital dozens of times without noticing, and had even sat in near the very back during a lecture he gave once, I myself had never met the man personally. What little information I had gleaned about him from my colleagues had been, at best, mixed messages: many of the nurses described him as charming, gentlemanly, and personable, while others still had called him gruff, cynical, and generally crusty in nature. One intern I had talked to sighed over his "dreamy blue eyes" and cited him as being "mysteriously sexy," while her friend scoffed and argued that he was "totally weird-looking."

This, of course, didn't help me at all; I didn't need sexy or weird-looking, I needed someone I could respect and be respected by. My brother, apparently, hadn't heard much more about this guy, either. "All I know is that he's smart, sarcastic, doesn't like to talk about his past, a famous curmudgeon but extremely likeable. Sounds like someone I know. I'm sure you two'll get along famously," he said with a smirk.

"Gee, Thanks." Still mentally kicking myself over the whole dinner thing, I was caught off guard when I heard someone calling my name. I spotted Paul Benke a short distance away near two other men, one in command gold, the other science blue, motioning for me to come over. I took a deep breath, realizing that the two men could only be Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy. As Paul began to walk over, I said a quick goodbye to Mark and Natalie before closing the distance between us.

"Don't worry about a thing, you're an excellent flirt," Mark said, making me laugh. "Flirting" was Starfleet slang for certain techniques of bargaining for things you wanted (a position on a research team, placement on a certain ship or starbase, research grants, etc.), at which I was highly adept.

As Mark and his wife moved back through the crowd, I found myself being led over my Paul to where the captain and his new CMO stood waiting. "Nicole, this Captain James Kirk of the _Enterprise_, and his Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Leonard, McCoy; Captain, Leonard, Dr. Nicole Zoellner," Paul said in way of greeting.

"Hello, I believe we've met before, captain," I shook his hand with a wide smile, which he returned.

"Yes, at your brother's wedding, if I remember, four years ago?" I felt my face flush slightly with annoyance.

"Three, actually," I corrected. He was every bit as friendly as I remembered, but clearly he, like me, seemed to have forgotten a lot else, and was at a loss as to how else to address our flimsy pre-established relationship, or if saying more was even necessary.

But it was McCoy that I was more interested in (after all, Kirk might potentially be my captain, but Dr. McCoy would be my direct superior, my boss). McCoy smiled back at me too; a small smile, but no less genuine. It was a lopsided, half-serious, slightly weary sort of grin, but his eyebrows went up as he greeted me, almost as if he were surprised. He didn't look to be much older than the captain or me, and was quite a handsome man himself, with a lean build and a wave of thick, dark hair falling across his forehead, which was actually the first thing I noticed about him. The second was his pair of striking blue eyes. _Damn, and I'm such a sucker for blue eyes, too,_ I mused, thinking that the annoying intern might not have been quite so off the mark in calling them "dreamy" (although I myself would never use that word). If he turned out to have a completely terrible personality, then at least I could say I'd lucked out with him being nice to look at.

"Well, in any case it's been too long," Kirk said, "You were missed at dinner last Monday, by the way."

I gave an exaggerated sigh and shook my head. "I'm going to kill my brother. By the way, have you seen him yet?" He said he had earlier, so I diverted my attention to Dr. McCoy. "Oh, and congratulations to you, doctor, I'm glad to see you decided to accept the post as CMO. I'm sure the captain here couldn't have made a better choice for it. You're quite a well-renowned figure in Starfleet Med, you know." Maybe I was overdoing it a bit, but all the same, flattery didn't hurt. And it wasn't necessarily untrue, either.

The doctor chuckled a bit. "Oh, believe me, the choice was more biased than you think, Jim and I've known each other awhile." His voice had a hint of a pleasant southern drawl in it, no doubt brought out a bit by the drink in his hand. _My God, a warm, personable, blue-eyed, southern gentleman for a CMO? It must be my birthday, _I thought. He raised his glass to his lips, and from behind it I could see those eyes looking me over—he was obviously sizing me up, trying to get a read on me.

Fair enough; two could play at that game. The ring on his finger caught my attention. Married? Highly unlikely, his wife would be here, or he would have mentioned her by now. But it was without a doubt a wedding ring. Thant left either widowed or divorced. My mind began to make the connections between his potential marital status and his service in Starfleet. If widowed, I got the sense that it had probably happened a while ago, but he seemed too young for me to want to think of him as being a widower just yet. I wondered vaguely if his wife might have also served in the Fleet and killed in action—I was strongly reminded of my own father. If divorced, it left little doubt in my mind that the circumstances had either caused or greatly contributed to his enlisting. In either case, it made this Dr. McCoy seem just a bit less like a name and a face I was meeting for the first time and more like someone I could relate to, someone I could respect. I wondered if he had any children…

"Dr. Zoellner, Dr. McCoy, I think I'll leave the two of you to talk by yourselves for awhile," Captain, Kirk said, bringing me back to the present. "What are you drinking, I'll get you another."

"Old Fashioned, but no thanks, captain, I'll probably be leaving in a little while, anyway." He smiled and left, and suddenly I realized that Paul had left as well. McCoy pointed out two empty seats at a nearby table, motioning for me to sit down.

"So, apparently, your captain must have told you a fair amount about me, or you already knew who I was and showed some interest," I told him, "He wasn't exactly subtle just walking off like that and leaving us alone to talk. You'd think he was setting us up on a date."

He grimaced and made an impatient sound in the back of his throat, but his eyes twinkled in a smile. "I have heard some good things about you, Dr. Zoellner. I've had hints that you were interested in joining the medical staff for the five-year mission. And Jim's not the only once who suggested you for ACMO. Only problem is, I don't know you. And you're sure you know what you're getting into with this mission?" He seemed to hesitate, then continued in a softer tone, "I know about things that happened on your last mission, and I'm sure we both know from experience that things like that are never easy. From what I hear I've no doubt you more than proved yourself capable of handling the position being offered, but have you really asked yourself why you're throwing yourself into this now? And five years is a long time."

I sat back and considered him. He made a good point, but what he didn't know was that I _was_ completely sure about what I wanted, even if I was still working on the more personal aspect of the _why_. "Look, doctor, let's just cut through all the bullshit and be honest with each other. I don't know you either, but I don't see what that should put me off from this mission. I would consider it an honor to be your Assistant Chief Medical Officer, because Lord knows you're going to need all the help you can get on a ship that size on a mission that long, and if you do know as much about me as I think you know—which obviously impressed you enough, or we wouldn't be talking right now—then you will know that I am more than qualified for the job. Believe me, I've had other offers. And I don't know about you, but I really don't think that we're going to get to know each other very well at this party. I think it would have been better had we met at the hospital or in a private meeting. I think you would've probably liked me a bit better in that case, too."

"Now wait a minute, I never said I didn't like you. I think I am starting to like you a bit more, now, though," he shook his head, "Couldn't agree more with you about this damn party business. Parties, cocktails, dress uniforms, what is all this? No way to meet your potential Assistant CMO, that what!"

"I know, right? I guess there goes Starfleet's pristine military tradition flying out the airlock, it all too political know. I mean, seriously, we're at a party 'celebrating' one of the most depressing things imaginable, and stuff like this only really serves the purposes of having an excuse to bump elbows with all the higher-ups. I'd say it makes me sick, but I guess that'd make me a pretty big hypocrite, then."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, just look at us doctor. I figured it'd be pretty obvious. I really do want this job, I'll admit it. I'm ambitious, and I guess… well, I guess I just figured that it was about time my life took a big leap forward and actually went somewhere. And maybe… there is a part of me that knows the only way I can prove myself as being more than just that one doctor whose career was made from being forced into a position of responsibility because of a tragedy is to actually take charge of my own career. I know this is going to sound really corny, but it just feels like the _Enterprise_ is where I'm meant to be. This is my career, we're talking about, my entire life, and if it means giving up five whole years of time that could be spent elsewhere in the pursuit of the one thing that matters most to me, then so be it.

"I'm sorry I'm rambling on like this, you probably just want me to shut up already, but all I'm asking for is a chance to get to know you, and prove to you what I'm capable of. The mission itself is highly experimental in general, isn't it? We might make a great team, we might not, but I think we will. It's the finding out that really matters."

I could tell it was getting late; the reception hall was starting to clear out. I watched McCoy in the seat across from me as he thought about what I said, and began to miss my drink. The mysterious wedding ring glinted on his finger, my only clue to his personal life, and I realized that for having just met, we really knew each other better than we though we did. There was some sort of connection, and I think the other doctor realized this. He knew I was anticipating his answer, and I guessed what it might be before he spoke.

"You know what? This party's depressing me. Let's do lunch," he said suddenly, "Next week. I'll pay. Just contact me with a day and time and I'll be glad to sit down and talk."

"Sounds great. Thank you, Dr. McCoy, it was great to meet you."

"You too, Dr. Zoellner."

"Please, just call me Nicole."

"Well, then in that case I guess you can call me Leonard. I'll see you around—if you're as depressed by this party as I am right now, I assume you're leaving soon, too."

"You'd be right, Leonard. I'll contact you. Goodbye."

It was only a day after our "lunch date" that I received the official invitation. An enormous file with paperwork out the wazoo that I downloaded with the click of a button. The cover letter itself was less than half a page long:

_Dr. Zoellner:_

_I am pleased to inform you that with the permission of Captain James T. Kirk, I have hereby selected you to serve as the Assistant Chief Medical Officer for the duration of the five-year mission of the USS _Enterprise_. I look forward to working with you and hope to meet with you again as soon as possible to discuss the appointment of additional medical staff. Attached are all necessary forms, which I am sure you are more than familiar with, so I will spare you a lecture. If you have any further questions or would like to decline this appointment please feel free to contact me at any time. _

_Sincerely,_

_Leonard H. McCoy_

_Chief Medical Officer, USS _Enterprise

"Monica!" I shouted for my roommate, "Guess who's just been made ACMO of the USS _Enterprise_?"


	3. A Rocky Start

**A/N: **Ok, first off, I'd like to apologize for the extremely long wait. I know that this chapter is long overdue (if you check on my profile, you'll see that I posted an "update" a really long time ago promising to have this done by the end of the week, and I also promised at the end of the last chapter to have it done in less that 2 weeks, but obviously that didn't happen), but life just got in the way. My grandpa recently passed away, and it's been a hard time, especially for my mom, and I've been busy helping her get his house cleaned out (we're renting it out to some people we know). So long story short, I am just now getting around to writing/posting this chapter and am very grateful to be back and have writing as an emotional outlet. The next chapter also ties into this one, so I should hopefully also have it up very soon. _**Also**_, you may want to go back and **re-read** the last two chapters, at least the **first one**, because I re-wrote some parts to include new details about the outcome of Zoellner's previous mission that are mentioned in this chapter.

**Also**, you may have noticed I've changed my penname from **Leanne Was Here **to **ImaRocketDog.** Yes, I am still the same author, this is just a change to match my usernames on other sites.

Just really quickly I'd also like to send a big thank-you to Lifeclaw, Sasha-Brooklyn-Eleanor-Freaket, viola20, Faded Feathers, and silver11 for subscribing to this story, writestyle and Sensara for leaving a review, and Sensara for favoriting. Thanks so much for being so patient in waiting for this chapter to happen, this one's for you! Now, without further ado, ON TO CHAPTER THREE!

(Oh, and if anyone is up for a challenge, see if yinz guys can spot the Pittsburghese phrase in this chapter!)

* * *

**Chapter Three: ****A Rocky Start**

The few months between the part in June and the Launch Date for the _Enterprise's_ mission in mid August was hardly more than a blur of activity. For me, each day was hardly different that those of every other doctor currently dirtside at Starfleet Headquarters: my time was mostly spent cover shifts at the Training Hospital and little else. It was in these months before that mission that I could really see just how understaffed Starfleet Medical really was back then; most doctors and nurses were either overworked or were operating at maximum efficiency, and I'm pretty sure that in the span of about two months alone I had logged more on-call hours and performed or assisted with more surgeries than I had in my two previous years of service. Had I had more time to be excited for the mission, I probably would have, but, well, I just didn't.

That all began to change in the last month or so before the mission. Since officially accepting my new post as his AMCO, Dr. McCoy and I had been having lunch together in the hospital cafeteria almost every day, essentially the only significant change to my typical dirtside daily schedule (besides the increased workload, of course). It was a great opportunity to get to know each other better, and I'm sure even more so had the conversation been less "strictly business." Oh sure, we might've shared a few jokes and the barest minimum of small talk, but as it was most of our lunch break was spent discussing staffing, supplies, and recent changes in sickbay protocol.

It didn't take long for the mutual grumbling over such matters to begin. Example: the first quarterly physicals of the mission were to be done over the first two weeks of September, despite the fact that the mission didn't even start a month before that and all crew members were required to submit to a physical prior to the start of the mission anyway. There was really no point to scheduling the September physicals, and the only point seemed to be to make sure that the medical staff got used to protocol early on (That, and infuriate those of us involved. Try performing physicals on a crew of 400+ when you're barely even acclimated to the ship yet and then we'll talk.).

But the biggest issue, without a doubt, was that of our new medical staff. Of course, all appointed medical staff had to be approved by us (and by that I meant McCoy; the CMO is really the one who has the final say in any matter), but that didn't mean that we still had much of a choice in the matter. Some, like Head Nurse Christine Chapel, were ship mainstays that McCoy had worked with before, but most others had been personally selected for the mission by some of the higher-ups in the Starfleet Med hierarchy.

Other still were replacements for first choices who were… unavailable. Psychiatrist Dr. Helen Noel was an example of this. "Oh, Christ," I heard McCoy mutter as he stared wide-eyed at a PADD one day, "Zoellner, you're not gonna believe this, but Tabor just died."

I looked up from my salad, startled. "My God, really?" Dr. Sam Tabor had been getting on a bit in years, but he was one of the most trusted psychiatrists in the Fleet; we had been lucky to have gotten him to sign aboard.

"Yeah, just had a heart attack and keeled over right in the middle of a lecture this morning. It's all over the Fleet news feed; you probably got something, too."

I checked my own PADD and sure enough, there was a new message waiting for me. I shook my head in disbelief. "You'd think someone would have the decency to tell us sooner. Who's gonna replace him?" No sooner had I said it than I heard a chime and found my answer waiting for me in the form of another message. I read it and silently imitated the exasperated noises McCoy made in response to it.

" Dr. Carlton Conroy, from Starbase 12, who apparently won't be joining us right away 'cause we've got to pick him up there first. Oh look, he's even got an associate, too; a Dr. Helen Noel, recent graduate of the Academy, specializing in rehabilitative therapy," he paraphrased from the message. I frowned and cursed under my breath; as if we were going to have a high demand for a relatively untested doctor specializing in criminal rehabilitation. Noel, at the very least, wouldn't be joining us until December, so I supposed we would have some time to see whether or not any crewmember was in need of her particular type of services.

Anyway, things started to fall into place in the last few weeks before the mission. The medical staff roster was finalized, as were those of most of the other departments on the_ Enterprise. _A week or so before departure, McCoy and I shuttled up to the ship in spacedock to inspect the sickbay, and I officially came aboard what was to be my home for the next five years for the first time. Of course, all of us were required to submit to the mandatory crew physicals, which gave me a chance to say good-bye to Paul before I left.

Some would've have thought it was strange—with a lot of sexual implications—that Paul was one of few _male_ doctors I was almost invariably assigned to for such mandatory physicals, and voluntarily went to. But it was nothing like that at all; Paul and I had known each other since college, when a friend of mine attempted to set me up with some guy she knew. It turned out to be Paul, and even though the two of us never ended up in a relationship, we became close friends. Moreover, he and I were part of the team working on That One Project while we were cadets, and he was my doctor when I ended up in the hospital as a patient because of it… but that's another story.

"Well, I can't really say it'll be strange not seeing you around, Nic" he joked as he helped me up from the examination table, "since I barely see you any more to begin with. Bet you'e glad to be getting out of this hellhole for awhile though, huh? The way they're workin' surgeons half to death these days at HQ..."

I laughed at that. "You kiddin'me? Five-year exploratory mission on a Constitution-class ship, and you think I'll be resting easy with my ass in a comfy desk chair all day and a glass of champange?" I could hear Paul chuckling softly as I closed teh curtains around me to take off the hospital gown and change back into my uniform.

"Sure as hell sounds good, though. Should be fun... for you anyway. A fresh start." He hesitated; I knew exactly what he was talking about, and I paused in the middle of puting my boots on before he continued in a more serious tone, "Well... it certainly does prove you're ready for a new challenge, more responsibility. I mean, Captain Huxley thought you were ready, which is why you're a full lieutentant, and Dr. Edbardiar must have thought you were ready, too... I guess you could say this is the real begining of your Starfleet career..."

He stoped suddenly when I pulled back the curtain, looking at my friend with as much annoyance as I could muster. I didn't want to have to think too much about my last mission if I could help it, even if it was the reason I got promoted and deemed worthy of handling the responsibilities of an ACMO.

Paul gave me an apologetic look. "You're starting to sound like my father," I told him. _More like my mother, actually. _We both smiled, and I hugged him, feeling that tiny twinge of regret I felt every now and then about leaving on this mission.

"See ya around, Nic. Try not to forget us poor bastards here on Earth," he said as I was leaving. I smiled at him one more time.

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to do exactly that."

* * *

And so a little over a week later, I found myself finally at my own desk, in the office aboard the Enterprise I shared with my new CMO, Dr. McCoy.

Doing paperwork.

I yawned for the upteenth time and cast a glance over at McCoy, who was scribbling on a PADD with a semi-scowl plastered on his face, and began to wonder if semi-scowling was his defult facial expression. Not that I could blame him for his look of discust; three days since leaving Earth, and we were still busy checking, recechecking, and correcting the sickbay and pharmacy inventories and all of the crew's medical records. All of this information was of course already in the ship's databank, but it was still necessary for it to be re-entered manually by the ship's medical team-by which I actually mean, the two of us-for precautionary reasons.

But the necessity of the situation didn't prevent me from still hating it. As if being three days with a virtual-literally-mountain of forms left to look over, wasn't bad enough, I still had unpacking left to do in my cabin, a sickbay staff to get aquainted with, September physicals to prepare for, and through it all, McCoy and I had hardly spoken since a week before the mision. Enough was enough; the CMO and his ACMO had to communicate sometime, and I was far to fed up with the slow start to our working relationship to let it wait till the end of the current workload or the begining of physicals (whichever came first). I set down my stylus and opened my mouth to speak, but McCoy was already looking up at me, half-expectant, half-annoyed, as if the sound of my stylus hitting the desk had finally alerted him to the presence of anothe rperson in the room.

"What it, it, Zoellner?" he asked, "I'm sure you've noticed I'm a little busy..."

"Really? So was I, but it can wait. You need a break as much as I do; your hand's probably so cramped around that stylus you're probably giving yourself carpal tunnel as we speak."

He sighed, but let go of the stylus and rubbed the wrist of his writing hand gingerly. "Well, guess I could use a break. Can't see what there's to talk about, though, not a damned thing's happened to far."

I smirked a bit at that. "Knock on wood," I said.

"What?" he gave me a blank look.

"Oh, you know, it's an expression... you said nothing's happened so far, which probably means nothing bad, so now you have to knock on something made of wood so you don't jinx yourself... well, anyway, if we really wanted to get to know each other better, then we'd probably be able to talk about anything else..."

He seemed to catch my drift, but didn't know what to do with it. "Well, that's not what I meant... well... just... ok then, what's your favorite color?"

I snorted. "That's the best you can do?" But I had to think about it for a while; I never really had one cosistant favorite color. "Um, purple, I guess. And yours?"

"Hmmm, I'd have to say blue for me."

"Blue? Thought you'd be tire of that by now, uniforms n'at." But I had to admit, blue really was his color. I looked at the objects on his desk, tring to think of something else to ask him. A picture cube near the corner caught my attention; on the side facing me, the picture slowly transitioned from what appeared to be a wedding photo, to one of a slightly younger-looking McCoy and a smiling little girl probably no more than three or four. I was suddenly reminded of the wedding ring I had first seem on his finger months back, and that feeling of curiosity returned, now tinged with a vauge sense of longing, an old feeling I was used to supressing...

"What about your family?" I asked before I even really thought about it. He seemed a bit taken aback by my question, which surprised me.

"What'dyou mean by that?" he asked a bit gruffly.

I blushed, hoping I hadn't upset him somehow. "I mean, I was looking at you pictures ove there, and I couldn't help but notice.. is that your daughter? She's very cute." I stumbled over my words, the look he was giving me making me wish I hadn't brought it up. McCoy sighed heavily, turning back to his work.

"I'm divorced, in case you haven't figured it out yet," he explained coldly without looking up, "My daughter's 16 now. Hardly see her at all; last time was my dad's funeral a few months ago. Don't think I'm being insensitive, but you probably wouldn't understand unless you've been through a divorce like mine."

I sat there staring at him, surprised and more than a bit hurt at the turn our conversation had taken. Sure, I did feel bad for him, but he was right, that last comment really did make him seem insensitive.

"Well, maybe I haven't, but I was engaged before," I said. McCoy paused again and looked up at me, probably not sure how ( or even if) to answer to that.

"'Was?' Oh, it, um, didn't work out for you then?" his voice was soft, sympathetic, but I didn't care much anymore. I didn't much feel like talking to him anymore, either. I got up to leave.

"Guess not, or else he wouldn't have left me. I'm going to get some coffee, want some?" He nodded and mumbled something, but before I heard what it was I was already out the office door and headed to the nearest rec room.

When I got there, I saw only Mr. Scott, the Chief Engineer, attacking the hot beverage replicator with his fist. I smiled, glad to have someone else to talk to.

"Machine eat your dollar, Mr. Scott?" I joked. He laughed, apparently giving up on trying to bully the replicator into submission and instead taking some kind of tool out of his pocket and proceeding to pop off a small panel with it, expossing a mess of wires.

"Aye, but I'll have a nice steaming cup of coffee for ye in a minute, lass," he said, and I had to supress a giggle, which I had seemed to be doing every time we had spoken since meeting. _Gotta love that Scottish accent, _I thought, absently staring at some trash left on the table while he worked.

It happened so suddenly I had no time to react. I felt the entire ship move around me as I learched forward, my abdomen slamming with unbelievable force into the edge of the bolted-down table. Breathless, I didn't immediately feel any pain, but felt and heard and kind of sickening crunch before landing hard on my back. Only then did the red-alert klaxons start wailing and the lights start flashing. The second hit rocking the ship less violently, so I knew that the shields must be up. I gasped for air, now acutely aware of a shooting pain in my left side every time I tried to take a breath. I ignored it for the time being and somehow managed to sit up, only to nearly fall down again from dizziness.

"Mr. Scott?" I stumbled over to where he lay in front of the replicator, clutching his head and looking disoriented. "Can you stand up? Shit, you're bleeding, here, I'll get you to Sickbay..."

He put his arm around my shoulder just as the floor trembled, not from a hit, but from our own fire; whatever it was that was attacking us, we were now fighting back. I winced and saw spots as he leaned into me, and the pain was making me feel dizzy again. Together we stumbled back down the hall to Sickbay and hurried in.

"I-I got... M-MrScott," I gasped out, hurredly handing off to a nurse before I could collapse. All around me, people were running about, saying something about Klingons, but they all passed by in a blur. Someone asked if I was alright, but I pushed past her. Dimly I heard Nurse Chapel calling to me, telling me to prep for emergency surgery. I clutched my side, the spots coming back and clouding my vision... I was at the sink now, but my hands slipped and couldn't turn the water on... a voice called to me, blue eyes flashed, a hand on my arm... I shook him off, turned away from him, but the world seemed to keep turning even after I had stopped... I couldn't breathe, couldn't shake those damned spots... I coughed, saw something red in my hands as the blue eyes came back... then melted away in a rush of sound and spots and blood and color...

* * *

**A/N:** DUN DUN DUUUUUN! I know you're all probably on the edge of you seats right now, wondering "WTF, they got attacked by Klingons 3 fucking days into the mission?" But yeah. Also, I was wondering, do any of you think I should make Zoellner's friend Paul gay? I mean, just because they're "just friends" and nothing more doesn't mean he HAS to be gay, but the way he's turning out so far makes me think he's probably gay. He won't be such a major character for a while, but he show up every now and then and probably be pretty important for what I have planned for into the "Good Doctors" future, so it might be kind of important later on if he's gay or not. Please let me know what you think! ~Leanne


	4. IMPORTANT NOTE! yes, one of those

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hey there, dearest readers! I feel like I must apologize for the exceeding long wait since the last update, and the fact that I've had this story posted here for over a year and a half and only have 3 measly chapters to show for my efforts. Pathetic, I know, but I must admit I have somewhat of a history of "abandoning my babies" (AKA not updating a fic that I was initially uber-excited about at first and leaving it only a few chapters in), a pattern that I was determined to break when I started "The Good Doctors".

You probably don't want to hear me trying to justify my bullshit, but life, writer's block, and ideas for new fics (I'm also terrible at staying faithful to one fic at a time and even one fandom, I'm a shameless fancfic slut) all too often get in the way of my writing. Unfortunately, college life (and laziness, but mostly college) has kept me from updating for many months now. In that time, I've received a shocking amount of feedback and popularity for this story that I'm certain I don't deserve. Over a 1000 hits, 8 reviews, 10 faves, 16 alerts, and a spot on a C2 with the charter "the best stories on the web", all for a 3 chapter OC story! That's more than twice as many hits and favorites, and 3 times as many story alerts as my oldest, longest, and 2nd most popular story! So thanks so much to all of my beloved readers, new and old, who for some reason keep adding up, despite the age and inactivity of the story. You guys amaze me and the continuously growing list of alerts/favorites has encouraged me to not abandon this story.

So do not fear, dear readers, more shall me coming, although you may perhaps have to wait a few more weeks still (I know, I know, it makes me sad too). Writing is my creative outlet but schoolwork and rehearsing for _HMS Pinafore_ still come first. I plan to do a buttload of writing over the summer, though, and I'll try to push myself to update this as well as my new Harry Potter fic once a week or al least every 2 weeks. I plan on following the main work of "TGD" all the way through the 5 year mission (once I get maybe 10 or so chapters in I'll start basing most of the chapters on episodes, with the intention of doing almost every TOS episode, plus intervening original story arc chapters. After "Turnabout Intruder" I haven't decided how to finish off the mission yet since I've never seen the Animated Series, so much of the last few yrs. of the mission might be mostly original with possibly some TAS, not sure yet). Post-five year mission, I definitely plan on writing about what happens in between then and V'Ger (I planned on actually doing TMP for the longest time, but I actually only saw the movie in it's entirety for the 1st time recently, and besides a few really good points it's pretty dull and I don't see how I could effectively incorporate an OC into the story), but this will probably be a shorter multi-chap. fic or a series of oneshots/vignettes. I'll also most likely do s series of vignettes set during the 2nd 5 year mission (which will mostly be entirely original, but will include so technically "non-canon" stuff like the introduction of Saavik and her half-Romulan background). Lastly-and I know this whole thing sounds ambitious already-I hope to do the "trilogy" of TWOK, Search for Spock, and Voyage Home, although I'll probably end up working on these simultaneously with the vignette series.

Phew, sorry to go on like that with an excess of parenthetical statements. But yes, I will be back, and yes, you readers do have a lot of stuff to look forward to, provided you still like what I'm writing as the series continues. Oh, I forgot to mention that before I finally post a new chapter, I am going back and rewriting most of the party scene in chapter 2 (expanding more on the friendship between Kirk and Mark Zoellner, and adding that Kirk and Nicole had met previously), as well as fixing some atrocious spelling and grammar mistakes I noticed in chapter 3, and reposting that as well. I hope to have both of these tasks finished and reposted within 2 weeks, and hopefully the long-awaited CHAPTER FOUR written and posted soon after. Expect new chapters to be more frequent from then on, but don't expect too much from me until at least March.

You, my dear readers, keep me going (with fanfiction, that is), and I love you all for it. Hopefully you can all understand my reasons for taking to long to update, but rest assured that I have not abandoned this yet! I know I hate reading "chapters" like this one with extensive apologetic author's notes, but sometimes it is a necessary evil. I hope I have not incurred the wrath of any of you.

Live long and prosper,

Leanne The Rocket Dog (formerly known as LeanneWasHere)


	5. NEW CONTEST! Details within!

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE** (yes, another one, go ahead and hate me):

This probably isn't all that necessary, but I just wanted to give yinz a quick update on my story progress. Unfortunately I'm still not done with Chapter 4 and will probably not be posting it until maybe another 2 weeks (there was a typo at the end of the last post that said "I won't post anything new until at least March" but I really meant May; it didn't make sense anyway since it was already March at the time, lol), but I can assure you that after that I WILL uphold by promise to update much more frequently, at least once every two weeks if I can (although I'd like to shoot for once a week, but I have other stories I'm working on, two, plus a summer job). However, I have just posted today the revised version of Chapter Two which I HIGHLY suggest you go read, since I added/changed some information that will be relevant to the future continuity of the story. There are some spelling/grammatical errors in Chapter 3 that I really want to fix, but I may or may not get to fixing that soon. So basically the only real reason for posting this new "chapter" was to shamelessly plug my new version of Chapter 2, and of course to reassure all of you that I WILL be back soon with new material.

**Oh, and one more important thing**. Since I don't plan on diving right into chapters based on episodes (the mission started in 2265 and by the time the show aired I think it was already supposed to be 2266, since it began airing in 1966, so obviously probably about half a year had already passed during the mission by this time, then), I have come up with a few original storylines for chapters that play out kind of like TOS episodes would. However, a lot of these ideas aren't fully fleshed out yet and I also don't feel that I have a substantial amount of these "filler" chapters yet. Also, a lot of these focus more on stuff happening on board the ship, with only one idea I have so far dealing with some kind of away mission on a planet.

So basically, I'm announcing a _**CHOOSE THE ADVENTURE-OF-THE-WEEK CONTEST**_. Anyone who has some kind of wacky prompt or plot idea, please tell me all about it in a review (or a PM, if you like being secretive)! It can be a prompt based on a single word, character, meme, cliche, plot device, movie quote, etc., or you can even send me a rough outline of a whole plot you'd like to see. To get your creative juices flowing, here's some possible story prompts/concepts I'm already considering, just to give you an idea of what I'm talking about:

-Kirk n' crew becoming oddly obsessed with grapefruit/grapefruit-like alien fruit (for those unfamiliar with Star Trek fanfic outside of this site, Kirk/Grapefruit has become a kind of memetic mutation popular in crackfics elsewhere, started by Shatner himself (don't ask))

-Yeoman Mary Sue comes aboard the Enterprise, but isn't exactly what she seems...

-holiday-themed murder mystery

-something involving one-eyed, one-horned, (not flying) purple people-eaters

I will, of course announce this contest again at the end of Chapter Four (once it's posted). The winner will have their prompt featured in probably either chapter 7 or 8, but possibly as early as chapter 5 (the details about what happens soon after chapter 4 are still a bit foggy), and will receive special recognition, of course. Although the term "winner" is highly subjective, as it's possible that depending on how much feedback I receive I'll probably use other prompts submitted somewhere down the line, and each time I use someone's prompt I will obviously recognize you for it. Also, if I use your prompt for a chapter, as a prize I will read and review any story of your choosing (or, if you want, beta-read it for you, since I am technically a beta, just not active at the moment). This contest will technically be ongoing for the entire duration of the fic (since I'll have plenty other original story arcs interspersed with episode-based chapters), but I will announce it again (and maybe a few more specific contests) periodically. So once again, thank you all for being patient with me, and please send me any ideas you want to see me include in The Good Doctors!

~Leanne the Rocket Dog


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